


high dive from the summer's heat wave

by phanatics



Series: kurodai week 2k17 [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Meetings, KuroDai Week, KuroDai Week 2017, M/M, Travel, World Travel, but this is fiction so who cares, the probability of having something like this happen in real life is basically impossible, this is an excuse to write about the places i want to visit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-27 01:02:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10798479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phanatics/pseuds/phanatics
Summary: Daichi swears he’s being stalked by a handsome stranger with seriously bad bedhead. He’s seen him three times now, in three different countries, and he’s not sure how much he believes in coincidences.(Day 6:distance/travel)





	high dive from the summer's heat wave

**Author's Note:**

> I always seem to start things really enthusiastically and lose momentum about halfway through once again i love this concept but can't seem to write it well enough 
> 
> i also wrote half of this on my phone and i feel like there's gonna be something weirdly autocorrected somewhere in here if so i apologize in advance

Daichi swears he’s being stalked by a handsome stranger with seriously bad bedhead. He’s seen him three times now, in three different countries, and he’s not sure how much he believes in coincidences.

The first time is at customs in Taiwan Taoyuan International Airport, and, well, it’s pretty hard to miss him, considering he stands about a foot taller than the rest of the people waiting in line. He’s scrolling through his phone boredly despite the very obvious signs that tell the public that cellular devices are forbidden, the other hand shoved deep into the front pocket of his dark red hoodie. Daichi subtly admires the stretch of his lean legs as the line of idle passengers inches forward, because, in his defence, there’s nothing better to do. Daichi can’t see his face from his place behind him, but he silently traces the hunch of his shoulders, the tapering torso, until he feels like he knows it by heart.

Handsome Stranger-san disappears from sight soon after they pass through customs, turning left where Daichi turns right, and Daichi forgets to mourn the loss as he rushes to the closing gate of his connecting flight to Oslo.

The second time is in London, almost two weeks later. Daichi is wandering along by the river, phone in his hand as he inconspicuously tries to check a map when someone walking in the other direction collides with his shoulder, causing the air to fly from his lungs. He grumbles and looks behind him, and nearly has an aneurism when he sees the back of that exact same bedhead on six foot of lithe limbs speed walking through the gaggles of tourists, wearing that dark red hoodie. He tells himself that he's making a mistake, it's just someone who looks eerily similar, and goes on his way, but it's more difficult to forget this time.

The third time, just four days after, he has a hard time believing it’s a coincidence when he finds him sitting at a barstool as he slips into a dim restaurant in Amsterdam, nursing a beer and that same bedhead. He’s cradling a camera to his chest, pressing buttons one-handed, the strap trailing across the sticky countertop. One time doesn’t mean anything; two times, and Daichi is willing to pass it off as chance, but three times - that's just suspicious.

Daichi takes a seat at the opposite end of the bar, asks for some water. He watches the stranger from the corner of his eye, sharply assessing each of his movements, silently searching for an opportunity to maybe introduce himself.

He turns his head fully as the stranger looks up to survey the room; his gaze snags Daichi’s before it moves on a second later. Daichi bites down the disappointment and flicks his gaze away, wondering if he should take a chance and say hello. He tries to calculate the possibility of the stranger recognising him too, but the chances are embarrassingly low, and he wonders if making a fool out of himself would be worth it. His eyes unconsciously dart back to the stranger half a second later, too drawn in to ignore him longer.

He's taken aback to see Bedhead-san looking at him with comical surprise written on his face and faint recognition in his gaze and when their eyes meet again he grins, blinding in the dim light of the bar, and beckons Daichi with a tilt of the head.

Daichi doesn't hesitate to approach him after that.

His name is Kuroo Tetsurou, he’s from Japan as well, and Daichi begrudgingly admits that he’s good company, despite his sharp tongue and natural affinity for bad jokes.

They compare their travel schedules and have to laugh at how many of their dates align. London; Amsterdam; Rome; Vienna; St Petersburg. They had even shared the same flight from London to Amsterdam, completely oblivious to the presence of the other; Kuroo jokes that it's fate and Daichi laughs it off but there's something pulling at his heartstrings that's completely contradictory to his outward reaction.

Kuroo tells him that he’s taking the summer to travel through Europe, to 'find himself’ or whatever. He leans in close and whispers that he’s also doing it out of spite, just because his parents had laughed in his face when he suggested it and told him he would never be able to travel alone. Daichi is mildly impressed at his pettiness. He's shown a selfie of Kuroo with an Icelandic pony, taken two weeks ago, a selfie of him and an alley cat in Edinburgh, a selfie of him with a flock of pigeons in London. Daichi dryly asks if he likes taking selfies and Kuroo just shrugs, indifferent. He holds up his camera and his grin returns as he takes a photo of Daichi, not even looking at the result before putting it away again.

It’s such an overwhelmingly relieving feeling to be able to hold a proper conversation with someone in his mother tongue. The only Japanese he’s heard over the past few weeks has been the snatches of phrases he’s picked up from hordes of tourists in bustling cities, and even then it’s not enough to quell the lingering ache of homesickness. Daichi prides himself on his nearly-perfect English skills, but when he’s fighting back overwhelming exhaustion and just wants to order a sandwich, he tends to make an ass out of himself. Talking to Kuroo now is the most he’s communicated with anyone since he first left home three weeks ago, and there’s a heaviness that eases from his chest that he hadn’t even realized was there, melting away like warm wax.  
  
They part ways after three hours in each other's company, when Kuroo startles at the time, apologising profusely as he explains that he wanted to see a lot of things today and he’s behind schedule. Daichi waves him off, tells him he understands, and he doesn’t try to stop him despite the dismay blooming at the back of his brain. Kuroo throws a _see you around_ over his shoulder as he leaves, not a goodbye, and Daichi is hopeful.

He next finds him in Rome, but it doesn’t come as a surprise this time. Although Daichi had been to Paris first, and Kuroo to Venice, their paths converged again in central Italy, five days later. They hadn’t decided to try and meet up because Kuroo quipped that they’d probably end up finding each other anyway, and although Daichi had rolled his eyes he found it difficult to disagree.

Kuroo's sitting on the stone border of a grassy bank, just in front of the Colosseum. His camera is out again and he's squinting through the viewfinder as the shutter clicks, before setting it in his lap again, satisfied. There’s sunglasses pushed up into his hair and the red hoodie is tied around his waist, leaving only a tight black v-neck shirt in its place. It’s the first time Daichi’s seen him in the sunlight, too accustomed to fluorescent, artificial lighting and the cloudy cover of North-Western Europe. He practically glows in the warmth.

Daichi sneaks into his personal space, the epitome of stealth, and leans over his shoulder, casually asking if he can see his photos. Kuroo startles so violently that a flock of pigeons on the grass fly off in a panicked flurry and he swears at Daichi, jostling him with his elbow as he merely laughs, taking a seat on the stones beside to him.

They bask in the sunlight, easing into a conversation about mundane things. It's simple and easy, and Daichi is wholly content to sit with this enigmatic stranger and watch the hordes of tourists battle for photo space at the base of the Colosseum.

Kuroo is unexpectedly intelligent. He tells Daichi all about the landmark in front of them, the thousands of years of history embedded in stone, the architectural prowess of the ancient Romans. Daichi has never been that interested in history, but as Kuroo gets overly excited explaining the fall of the Roman Empire, he thinks it might be his new favourite subject.

Midday arrives, and when Kuroo offers to buy him a drink Daichi is all too happy to agree.

Kuroo asks him how Paris was and, in return, Daichi questions him on what he’s been doing in Italy so far; Kuroo launches into an enthusiastic summary of the canals in Venice and his near-death encounter with an angry taxi driver, gesticulating wildly, eyes bright with amusement. They talk like they're old friends catching up after years apart, not strangers linked by coincidence. Daichi's cup of Italian coffee goes cold, forgotten and untouched, as he focuses on Kuroo like he's the only important thing in that dingy little side-street café.

It’s an almost-date. Daichi doesn’t want to get his hopes up, considering the weird circumstances in which they came across each other, but Kuroo locks their ankles together under the table and Daichi has to admit to himself that he’s a little smitten.

They spend almost their entire time in Rome together. Daichi wonders if it defeats the point of deciding to travel solo, but Kuroo takes him through inconspicuous backstreets and drags him to places he never would have considered taking a second look at, and he decides the company is for the better. He has a flight to catch to Geneva on their fourth morning in Rome, and Kuroo scribbles his number on the back of Daichi’s hand the night before, “just in case”, but each time Daichi goes to open up a blank LINE conversation, he hesitates.

Six weeks into Daichi’s travelling, and three after Rome, they find each other for the last time at a hostel in St Petersburg, and they accept it like they'd planned for it. They hadn't seen each other in Vienna, another common city between them, and Daichi had been more disappointed than he's ready to admit.

They share a bed that night, to save their dwindling supplies of money, and they both agree that it's better than sleeping next to a stranger; Kuroo is still technically a stranger, but he's a stranger with a name and a charming personality that Daichi has had a sliver of a glimpse into. And, like nicotine, he finds himself craving more.

It's the most fulfilling nights rest Daichi has had the entire time he's been travelling; they don't touch, don't wake up tangled together like an overused scene from a shoujo manga, but the warmth of Kuroo's body through the sheets is comforting, and when Daichi accidentally brushes their legs together as he drifts off to sleep, he doesn't move away again.

They tour St Petersburg together the next day, but the atmosphere is subdued. They both miss home and exhaustion lines their eyes, seeping into the curves of their bodies, making each step sluggish. There are calluses on Daichi's hands and he finds himself nervously twitching at random moments, and Kuroo doesn't seem like he's faring much better. Daichi confesses to him that he's felt like giving up multiple times, has repeatedly wanted to find the closest airport and catch the soonest flight back to Japan as he can, and he feels relieved when Kuroo agrees. The summer months are finally giving way to autumn, and the air is chilly, and there’s only two more days left before Daichi’s flight to Tokyo; Kuroo leaves tomorrow and he insists that he wants to make the most of his last day away from home.

He drags Daichi to all the closest landmarks, and forces him to take a selfie with him in front of the Mariinsky Palace. Daichi grumbles that the light drizzle is making his hair go frizzy and Kuroo just shushes him, absentmindedly patting the top of his head as he captures multiple snapshots, grinning in each one.

Kuroo flies back to Tokyo the next day, and Daichi still has twenty four more hours in Russia. Their farewell isn't really a farewell, just another _see you around_ , and Daichi can't help but think that the grey city feels emptier without the company of a fellow backpacker. He’s not really sure what to do with himself on his last day, the restlessness in his mind opposing the exhausted weight of his limbs; he ends up not doing much, just wanders the winding streets and takes photos of the ornate churches he comes across. 

That night he finally sends Kuroo a message, asking if he’s around tomorrow evening when his flight gets in. He's staying overnight in Tokyo before taking the train back to Miyagi, and he could use some help navigating the city and maybe finding a place to stay; he gets a reply almost immediately, brimming with enthusiasm, and Kuroo asks if he wants to stay the night at his house, an easy ten minute walk from the station. Daichi sends him a simple "sure", typed out with shaky fingers after a moment of hesitation, and attaches a picture of a pretty church façade he came across earlier before he shuts off his phone to sleep. He forgets about the time difference, and doesn't wonder why Kuroo is up at four in the morning.  
   
Kuroo meets him at the airport the next evening with a surgical mask pulled down around his neck and he offers to take his bag, tipping his invisible hat when Daichi mockingly calls him a gentleman. He takes Daichi on a whirlwind tour of the streets leading back to his house, chattering about everything and nothing, pointing out the most mundane things and acting offended when Daichi doesn't take him seriously.

Daichi wants to tell him that he missed him, in the day they were apart, but it's too soon, they're too new, and he worries that it might get weird. He'd treated Europe like some kind of liminal space, where they were untouchable, unchangeable, but there's something about being back on home turf that weighs between them, makes them cautious.  
   
Daichi sleeps in Kuroo's bed that night as his more-than-a-friend takes the couch downstairs, and he breathes in the smell of the sheets for as long as he can before he passes out.  
He wakes up early, too early, because he's still reeling from the timezones, but he tiptoes downstairs to find Kuroo awake too. He doesn't want to intrude for too long and he's on his way soon enough, being escorted to the train station for a last goodbye with his travelling backpack secured tightly on his shoulders.

Kuroo kisses him for the first time at the entrance of the station in the shadow of a concealed archway, one more lingering _see you soon_ sparking to life where their mouths touch. He's bolder in the shadows, more confident in the rays of the dawn, when everything is a little bit hazy and there's no one around to spare them a second look.

Kuroo grins at him, tells him - promises him - that he'll call later, and it's over just like that.  
   
Daichi returns to Miyagi feeling lighter than he has in months.

**Author's Note:**

> anyway i love vicariously living out my travel desires through fictional boys someone take me to the colosseum im begging you


End file.
